


until the flowers bloom, stay there, wait for me.

by wenmemehui



Series: (we could take, we could take,) we could take our time, baby, in slow motion. [got7, bts, unconnected one-shot series] [2]
Category: GOT7, K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Dark, Dysfunctional Relationships, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Like lots of it, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Pain, Suicide Notes, it's jinyoung, photographer!Yoongi, suicidal!jinyoung, there's just angst, they make out and wax poetry about each other, title taken from bts - spring day, written to yugyeom's soundcloud songs and defsoul's songs so smut is implied, yoongi isn't the careless bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 11:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10830363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wenmemehui/pseuds/wenmemehui
Summary: There are scars on the boy’s arms, and in the photograph, the red, angry lines shine and glitter against the white of the bed sheets splayed like a mess around him. Only a fraction of his face is seen and yet he looks like a pretty, delectable little thing, mouth curved and neck angled and jacked up on the smoke that hazed around him in small, invisible wisps. He was fucked up.He was beautiful, absolutely irresistible and impossible not to fall in love with, but he was fucked up nonetheless....or, alternatively: Yoongi the photographer, Jinyoung the fuck up, and how they fall apart and fall together.





	until the flowers bloom, stay there, wait for me.

 

**_Dear Yoongi-hyung,_ **

**_I hoped that, one day, the blue of my scars would fade into nothingness as you kiss me chastely with your hands locked around my waist and my hands thread in your hair, right under this ageing sky while it rains snowflakes as tender as your heart._ **

**_(I hoped that, that day, I’d break away from you, the tip of my nose red like cherries as I look at you, your mouth pretty and kiss-bitten, and I’d say, “You make me want you so goddamn bad,” and I hoped you’ll be smiling.)_ **

……

Anyone who looks at the photograph wouldn’t be able to tell where it came from. When they see it, they’ll see a tanned boy with half his face in the shot, blurry and out of focus, and they’ll see the hickeys on his neck and the bites on his chest and the branded, finger-shaped marks on his waist. They’ll see aesthetic and pretty and lovely and _genius_ , and they’ll pause to stare at the raw emotion in a boy so broken that his pain echoed in a photograph.

They won’t see the story.

They won’t be able to tell everything that happened before the photograph – that Yoongi had loved Jinyoung once upon a time in all the wrong ways, that Yoongi had blurred the shot on purpose and taken a photograph because he had known this would be the last he ever saw of Jinyoung. They won’t be able to tell the desperation in the photograph, one of Yoongi’s hands splayed neatly on Jinyoung’s waist like he’s begging him to not leave. All the indications and they won’t be able to tell how wrong Jinyoung and Yoongi were for each other, how the bruises indicated love and roughness and pent up anger and frustration and toxic emotions. The story won’t exist to them, for they will only know the artist and his photo and not the love the artist lost to draw inspiration for his masterpiece.

There are scars on the boy’s arms, and in the photograph, the red, angry lines shine and glitter against the white of the bedsheets splayed like a mess around him. Only a fraction of his face is seen and yet he looks like a pretty, delectable little thing, mouth curved and neck angled and jacked up on the smoke that hazed around him in small, invisible wisps. He was fucked up.

He was beautiful, absolutely irresistible and impossible _not_ to fall in love with, but he was fucked up nonetheless.

(“Do you wish I was different?” The boy asked, one hand buried in the artist’s hair and the other splayed on his neck like he could tighten his hold and suffocate him any minute. “Do you wish I held your hands and kissed you softly and smiled at you like you’re my universe and told you I loved you, Yoongi-hyung?”

“No.” He said, curling a hand around his wrist and tugging it off his neck in a smooth, routinely motion. “We’re fine the way we are, baby.”

Both of them were young. Most importantly, they were hurting. It hadn’t stopped Jinyoung from smiling at Yoongi, broken and bent and absolutely riveting.)

…...

**_We’re fine being turbulent, fighting and punching and kicking one second and kissing each other senseless against walls on the next. We’re fine holding each other like it’s the last fucking time I’ll ever see you again. We’re fine loving like this, fucked up and messy and harsh and cold, my lips on your pulse point and your hands combing through my hair. We’re fine as long as I fall asleep with your heart beating against mine, singing the same song of love and loss and broken promises. We’re fine as long as you kiss me like it’s the first time we’re kissing, tongue and teeth and clumsiness written on every move. We’re fine when you say you love me through fumbling kisses, when you touch me nice and slow like it’s the first time you’ve ever loved anyone._ **

**_(We’re fine as long as I come back, and I’ll always, always come back to you.)_ **

…….

“Hey.” Jinyoung says, soft smile and warm eyes and trembling hands and all, like he’s twenty one again and fidgeting in front of Yoongi because he had no idea what to say. “I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

It’s Yoongi’s exhibition. There’s no reason Jinyoung should be surprised to see him walking around. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, afraid, if not momentarily, that he’ll open his mouth and say all the wrong things, ( _where the fuck have you been, it’s been a year, I loved you, you heartless bastard, I fucking waited, do you see what I did for you, I missed you so goddamn much, you’re so beautiful, I can’t wait to fuck you senseless, so beautiful, you’re mine, why did you leave, are you okay, did you miss me, I cried so much, no letter, no email, no calls, just an empty bed and a post-it that said **I’m sorry and please don’t hate me** , I loved you so goddamn much, wasn’t I enough, don’t you love me, didn’t you care,_) and he doesn’t think he’s ever been this paralyzed before, mostly from surprise and fear and a thick, heavy numbness that settles on the top of his heart like a block of lead.

“What do you think?” He asks instead, voice shaking. “Of the exhibition, I mean.”

“It’s great, hyung.” Jinyoung praises, and Yoongi hates, hates, _hates_ , how quickly his lips tug up into a smile and his hands itch to hold Jinyoung’s narrow waist, hates how he gets so weak at the soft blush on his cheeks. “Your centerpiece is beautiful.”

It’s the photograph of Jinyoung, twenty one year old Jinyoung, anyway, half his face in the blurry shot with the mapped bruises that bloomed on his chest like constellations. It’s the last photograph Yoongi ever took of him, pretty and delectable and broken, Yoongi’s hand splayed on his waist and Jinyoung’s scars on display, all his weaknesses and strengths on show like he was a showpiece and not a human. Yoongi’s eyes flicker at it again, where some critics are staring at it, and he sighs.

 _Of course it’s beautiful._ “It’s you, Jinyoung-ah.”

“I know.” He says, and Yoongi can’t tell if he’s aching or stinging or smug when he smiles. “I know, hyung.”

……

And like always, like a clockwork, when Jinyoung kisses him sometime after the exhibition’s closed, even though his head hurts and his heart aches, Yoongi kisses him back, hands in his hair when Jinyoung presses him against a wall and his hands slide up the taut muscles of his torso.

“I’m sorry,” Jinyoung says, voice breaking and eyes so, so sad, as his lips brush past the shell of Yoongi’s ears, and foolishly, like a man who hadn’t learned to stop loving, Yoongi believes him.

(There’s no other way to put it. Jinyoung takes him back to his new place, a nice, shiny apartment on the corner of a mediocre neighborhood, and he kisses him against the door even before Yoongi can swing his shoes off. He kisses him slowly and shyly at first, then kisses him fierce and hard until his tongue is mapping out the cityscape in his mouth and Yoongi’s hands are tugging impatiently at his clothes. He makes Yoongi want more, more of whatever mistake they’re about to make, more of what he’s been missing out on for half a year, more of what he almost had, more of what he’d fallen for more, and he’s so, so fucking gentle that it breaks Yoongi’s heart more than anything else ever had.

Yoongi’s rough in every way possible. He likes fighting, biting and tugging until Jinyoung’s begging for anything at all, (maybe his hands, maybe his tongue – anything to keep him sated and calm and content,) but Jinyoung’s not like that. Jinyoung takes him apart, bit by bit, piece by piece, and smiles as he does so, and for a moment, it’s like nothing’s changed at all.)

........

**_I missed you so goddamn much when I walked away. It was like I’d torn my chest open with my blunt nails and ripped my own heart straight out of my ribcage and rested it on my side of the bed, while you slept in peace without knowing you’d wake up confused out of your mind. I knew you’d resent me – you hated me anyway, because you loved me and I loved you but neither of us knew what to do about it – but I had to leave. I couldn’t bear staying with you knowing that I broke you apart on the inside and killed you and hurt you so badly. I couldn’t bear knowing that I could only return a fraction of your love. You were so good to me, and I couldn’t do anything for you._ **

**_You looked serene under the moonlight filtering through the window. I didn’t kiss you because I didn’t deserve you and I never had, and instead, I squeezed your tender wrists, (clean and void or any cuts,) and I said, “I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me,” as though repeating what was on the note would make you hate me any less. Then, I walked away._ **

**_You always said you loved me despite my flaws. I was always so close to saying it back._ **

......

It only gets worse from there. Jinyoung drags him right back into the eye of the hurricane, kissing him sweetly and loving him gently, and Yoongi falls right back into it, eyes closed and fingers threaded through Jinyoung’s, and it feels achingly familiar.

He doesn’t bring up the fact that Jinyoung had been the one to leave, because a sadist part of him wants to be tortured and left without any answers. Instead, he holds Jinyoung in his arms like it’s the last time they’ll be like this, fucks him senseless and lets himself be used, and trades lover’s kisses with him afterwards, feeling Jinyoung’s lips like they were a part of his own that had been detached from him a long time ago. He feels lost and found at the same time, hot and cold simultaneously, and he can’t remember a life before this one.

“Hyung.” Jinyoung says. “I’m so sorry.”

There are too many things he has to apologize for. He has to make up for days and days of lies and theft and wasted time, for all the times they spend apart that they could have spent together, all the photographs he could have taken of their time together, all the kisses Yoongi could have had, all the pretty smiles they could have exchanged, all the sex they could have had, all the good times they could have shared.

Yoongi smiles at him like the memories of the cold nights don’t plague him and says, “Stop it, you’re here now,” and smiles.

…….

**_I just wanted to be with you, even if it was the last few days. You made this world bearable. You gave me a reason. I hated myself. I hated everything around me. I didn’t want to live. You changed that, for a long time, but you changed that at the cost of your own happiness and I didn’t want that. I wanted you, but more than that, I want you happy._ **

**_So here I am. By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be gone. There’s no place on this Atlas that can keep me away from you at this point. Anywhere I am, I will look for you, and I will always want you, and I don’t want to torture you any further. I’ve thought this through – I want this. I want to die. I’m not going to fuck up my wrists again. (Seeing you cry once, your face scrunched up and your eyes so, so sad is enough for me.) I’ll swallow sleeping pills and go peacefully._ **

**_I’m sorry I made you suffer._ **

......

“I love you.” Jinyoung says, forehead resting on Yoongi’s shoulder when they hug. “I love you so goddamn much, hyung.”

It feels like a million needles shattering his defense when Jinyoung says it like this, lips ghosting the juncture where Yoongi’s neck meets his shoulder as he smiles and whispers the words, and it’s so intimate, like the year gap hadn’t even happened to begin with. He breathes in and breathes out, hands tangled in his hair, and Jinyoung looks the picture perfect of innocence and beauty. Yoongi wishes he could take a photograph of the way his arms fit around Yoongi like they were meant to be, wishes he could take a photograph of the way their hands remained interlocked, wishes he could take a photograph of Jinyoung like this, so pretty and vulnerable with his chest cut open and waiting for Yoongi to take his heart.

Yoongi loves Jinyoung too. Loves him so much that his absence had ripped his blood vessels open until he feels like he’s bleeding onto the ground, loves him so much that he thinks he might give himself up for Jinyoung, loves him so much that he wishes he didn’t have any other obligations just so that he could stay with him all the time. Yoongi loves Jinyoung when Jinyoung’s happy or when he’s sad, Yoongi loves Jinyoung when he’s mad or when he’s normal, loves him when he ties Yoongi’s wrists up to the headboard and rides him, loves him when he lets Yoongi kiss him senseless and sweet talk him when they’re done fucking, loves him when he smiles in all of Yoongi’s photos, loves him when he hooks his fingers with Yoongi’s, loves him when he smiles and when he cries, loves him when the sun rises and the sun sets, loves him in the smallest of ways, loves him, loves him so goddamned much that his chest hurts to just think about it.

And the reason it’s so fucking easy to admit it is because Yoongi has always loved Jinyoung for his flaws and all the things wrong with him, because his flaws and his wrongs and his scars and his falls are what makes Jinyoung so fucking beautiful.

“I love you too, baby.” He says into his hair, voice so quiet that it’s a surprise he hears him. “Please don’t do that to me again."

“I’m sorry.” Yoongi thinks that’s a tear that falls from Jinyoung’s lashes.

……

**_I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you so goddamn much. I love you. I wish I wasn’t so fucked up. I love you. I'm sorry I never said it enough. I love you. I love you. I love you._ **

**_I’ll love you even after they’ve sent me back to Mother Earth. I’ll love you even when you forget about me. I loved you when I was twenty one years old and you kissed me for the first time on the hood of your car, and I’ll love you until the end of time._ **

**_(You’re everything to me. Please don’t cry, hyung.)_ **

…...

They kiss for the last time outside Yoongi’s house, in the snow covered road after Yoongi’s snaps a photograph of Jinyoung looking up at the sky where the snowflakes are falling.

They kiss like it’s the first time they’re kissing, pure and chaste as Yoongi hooks his arms around Jinyoung’s waist and Jinyoung runs his hands through Yoongi’s hair. He tastes like wine and lost hopes, and his lips are warm and soothing to touch. Kissing him is like drowning in all things good – Yoongi doesn’t want to complain. The kiss like that for a long time, only the blue sky and the white snow and the whitish scars on Jinyoung’s wrists the witnesses, and Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll get bored of this.

There’s snowflakes in their hair when Jinyoung breaks away, lips pretty and kiss-bitten, and he says, “Thank you,” and Yoongi silences him with another kiss.

 _Stay with me,_ Yoongi wants to say, _stay with me and be with me and never leave, baby._

(He does leave. The police find Jinyoung’s body, cold and stiff on the couch of a dingy motel room, pills in his hands and more in his stomach and a shot of vodka and water on the table next to him. Yoongi’s heart damn near breaks when Jinyoung doesn’t open his eyes, even when Yoongi kisses him and begs him to.

“Jinyoung-ah, baby.” He says, breathless and shaken and so, so sad. “Don’t do this to me, please.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, and yet again, Yoongi is left with nothing but a piece of paper to remember what they had. His world is empty and void of color again.)

……

**_I hope you find someone better than me. Your centerpiece doesn’t deserve to be me, hyung. I hurt you. I made you hate me. Find someone you love and be happy with them. I’m fine where I will be – all that matters, at least to me, is that you survive._ **

**_I love you, hyung._ **

**_I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me._ **

****

**_Forever in your heart,_ **

**_Jinyoung._ **

**Author's Note:**

> dont ask me where this came from and dont ask me where my superhero au is i have no inspiration whatsoever


End file.
